


NIGHTSIiADE 



BY 



CHARLES STEVENS REMINGTON 




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NIGHTSHADE 



By 
CHARLES STEVENS REMINGTON 



New York 
1922 



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Copyright, 1922 
By Charles Stevens Remington 



Private edition of one hundred copies 



Few hearken to the caws of grain-fed crow 
While carols from the worm-fed lark o'erflow, 
But many are at pains to grow the grain 
And never on the worm a care bestow. 



CONTENTS 

Title Page 

The Mirror of Mnemosyne 11 

Sequoia 19 

The Suttee 27 

To a Humming Bird 33 

An Arab Maid 37 

Virtue 43 

Death Valley 47 

Ego 51 

The Chalice 55 

Life 59 

The Potter 63 

The Sage 67 

At Parting 71 



THE MIRROR OF MNEMOSYNE 



11 



It was late in a day at the end of my life 
That I sat in a wood out of turmoil and strife 

Where the light was subdued by the shade, 
For the leaves of a maple were laced with a larch 
In an emerald fabric that curved in an arch 

O'er a crystalline pool in a glade. 

'Twas a wood where the shadows were trellised on gleams 
And it promised rewards for the stalking of dreams 

From their crevices carelessly strayed; 
'Twas an hour when an errant afar from its cave 
Might be lured to this nook in the water to lave, 

And I studied the pool in the glade. 

On the lining of moss in the richest of green 

That embroidered the slopes with a shimmering sheen, 

Lay the form of a beautiful maid ; 
'Twas an image to hold an observer in spell, 
As she lay on her side like a delicate shell 

In the depth of the pool in the glade. 

She had folded her arms in the form of a nest 
Where her face was concealed, but her virginal breast 

Was so clear that I sat there afraid. 
And her hair of the color of leaves in the fall 
Had enveloped her waist with a gossamer shawl, 

As she lay in the pool in the glade. 



13 



I arose in the hope of espying a trace 

Of the maiden whose image was cast with such grace 

That the picture in death could not fade, 
But the light from the heavens that restfully shone 
On the water convinced me that I was alone 

By the side of the pool in the glade. 

Then the ferns were caressed by the breath of a sprite 
And the depth of the water was hid from my sight 

By the ripples that plaintively played, 
But the calm that ensued left the maid in her place 
And I knew her at once as she turned her fair face 

From the moss in the pool in the glade. 

As my revery followed the path of the years 

In a search for the hopes that were buried in fears. 

It retreated until it was stayed. 
And a wandering memory crept from the past ; 
From the distance it drew till I saw it at last 

In the depth of the pool in the glade. 

Ah, it seemed but a day since the maid on the moss 
Had uncovered a pillow of satin and floss. 

That in fold upon fold she had laid, 
For the couch of her love, which the roseate gold 
Of her hair was a glistening sheet to enfold, 

Ere she passed to the pool in the glade. 



15 



On the word of her Christ that her love made her whole, 
To her lips she entrusted her life and her soul. 

And she gave in the spirit she prayed, 
But her life was as fleet as the kiss of her breath 
And it followed her soul to voluptuous death 

In the depth of the pool in the glade. 

She was still in her youth when her slumbering fires 
Were ignited by God, for her flaming desires 

In the highest of heavens were made, 
But a man in the making is naught but a fool 
And he left her to pine and her worship to cool 

In the depth of the pool in the glade. 

'Twas the form of the goddess of maidenly love 
That I saw by the light from the heavens above. 

But the soul was a seraph betrayed, 
And I wept in my grief as I thought of the end 
Of a life that the angels unfolded to blend 

With the life in the pool in the glade. 

Then a shadow fell full on her maidenly charms. 
But it passed and she opened her beckoning arms 

With a gesture I swiftly obeyed; 
And I knew when we met, as the dead may divine, 
That her love Hke her life had been riven from mine, 

And I lie in the pool in the glade. 



17 



SEQUOIA 



19 



Within the fecund womb of earth, 

A seed, it had no voice; 
No wish nor thought it had of birth 

But grew and knew no choice. 

It lay at quiet in the dark 

Below the world of storms. 
Nor missed the wraps of bough and bark 

But grew at peace with worms. 

Allured at last from mother night 

By gifts of rain and sun, 
It drew itself toward the light 

And smiled at life begun. 

It saw the flowers of early May 

And heard the thrush's lilt; 
It saw the squirrels at their play, 

The nests the partridge built. 

It saw the flower die for the weed 

And both die for the deer; 
It saw the bird consume the seed 

And starve another year. 

In time it saw the eagle's flight 
From mountain peak to peak; 

It heard the noises of the night. 
The puma's mournful shriek. 



21 



It saw the bird die for the bird 
And screech put song to flight; 

It saw the herd die for the herd 
And beast hold beast in fright. 

Four thousand years it braved the sleet, 
The blast, the blow, the snow ; 

Four thousand years it breathed the heat 
And fought to live and grow. 

It saw the lightning's fatal flash 
And met the tempest's pour; 

Withstood the whirlwind's raving crash. 
The thunder's deafening roar. 

Its roots embraced a mountain place 

As stout as half the world, 
And from its mighty anchored base 

By naught it could be hurled. 

Four thousand years it looped its rings 
While nations came and went; 

And Uved to lay a thousand kings 
While creeds like reeds were bent. 

It saw a race die for a race 

And both die for a lie; 
A god usurp another's place 

And for another die. 



23 



From beasts and men and gods it grew 

Until it reached the sky, 
And from its height amid the blue 

It asked a planet, "Why?" 

When secrets of the stars it knew 
The green of hope went brown. 

And madness from the moon it drew, 
Whence fell a silver crown. 

Asleep at last, from struggle freed. 
An outline black and blurred. 

It dreamed it was a wasted seed 
That went to feed a bird. 



25 



THE SUTTEE 



27 



So beautiful that I can feel you sleep 1 
And thus you slept until you made me bride. 

So beautiful that I am loath to weep ! 

Ah, Love! This night, beloved of death, you died. 

Across the court awaits the eager pyre, 
And in the hour I go, a choiceless mate, 

To place my hand in hand of lustful fire 
That burns an universal love to hate. 

Ah, Love ! You came — a god congealed in ice 

That thawed against my cheek, upon my breast — 

A god that warmed and waked ^vithin a vise 
Of molten flesh with fiery fiends possessed 1 

I found you in a cultivated close 

And raised you from your pallet, undefiled. 
Of pallid petals from the sexless rose, 

To make our bed in brambles rank and wild. 

My soul was on your lips, bekissed of mine. 

And tongue of flame was shot to tongue of flame. 

Until I lay — my love, my life, myself divine — 
In coma that has never had a name ! 

I thought you only had the power of death 
Until I found it joined with power of life. 

Oh, Love ! Oh, Love ! When woman's quickened breath 
Possesses her and then — the lightning's wife! 



29 



I was the anvil underneath your blows 

That rang and rang and, ringing, left their scars 

Until the heated, softened surface, rose 
And pink, became the birthplace of the stars! 

Embraced, enclasped, I strove to offer birth 

To gods, and wove a plan, not woven in wombs. 

To give through you all given me of worth. 
But bore our biers in shadow of our tombs. 

Ah, Love! 'Tis less than shell — 'tis less than shade 
Of her you knew who prostitutes the pyre: 

Not even ashes that my lava made 

Remain to make a jest with foolish fire. 

But no! 'Tis endless chaos that I greet — 
That would the phantom of my love entice. 

My madness made the pyre, since all the heat 
Of Hell was spent in melting Heaven's ice. 



31 



TO A HUMMING BIRD 



33 



Ever darting, stopping, starting. 

Joyless, if at all, in flight; 
Spending playtime after Maytime, 

None has life so blithe and light. 

Robes the brightest, cares the lightest 
Ever worn by feathered folk; 

Taste the sweetest, wings the fleetest, 
Never you the echoes woke. 

Flowers in cluster lack your luster, 
Dainty, dancing, darting bird, 

But we, listening for you, glistening. 
Never once your carol heard. 

Ever questing, never resting. 
With the gayest you belong, 

But the honey in your sunny 

Spirit chokes the spring of song. 



35 



AN ARAB MAID 



sr 



It was dusk in a desert oasis 

Where the caravan camped for the night; 
In this spot in the widest of spaces 

Was a maiden apparelled in white. 

By her side was a palm like a sentry 
In an outpost afar from its tribe, 

But in silence to one it gave entry 
For he offered his love as a bribe. 

Unrelieved by a season of dun days 

Where the night was the cloud and the shade, 

The retort of the tropical sun-rays 
Had embosomed itself in the maid. 

Like the hope that no hope can awaken 
When but one is adrift on the sea, 

Was her passion by passion forsaken 

For it breathed of the breath of the tree. 

As she danced in the eyes of her lover. 
To his plea she was moveless and mute, 

For she looked in her longing above her 
Where the branches were barren of fruit. 



It was dusk in another oasis 

Where the caravan camped with the day, 
But the noon of the desert's embraces 

With the maiden had hngered to play. 



39 



From the circle of shadows around her 

Came the music of wind through the pahns, 

And the voice, as the melody found her, 
Was the voice of her love singing psalms. 

When her thirst had discovered a water 
Of a spring where a maiden could quaff. 

Like the palms from which miracles wrought her, 
She regaled and refreshed with a laugh. 

Then the man disappeared with the moonlight, 
But the maid was unmoved as he went, 

And she lay through the length of the June night 
With a lining of stars in her tent; 

For she gazed at the languorous palm trees 
As they leaned on the leaves of their mates, 

And her bosom was cooled by a balm breeze 
That was wafted through clusters of dates. 



41 



VIRTUE 



43 



A shadow speaks with vacant voice to chide 
The faultless Hands, unseen upon the side, 
That slide the film of love while shadows ghde 
Across my screen, that others may abide. 



45 



DEATH VALLEY 

{A Calif ornian Landscape) 



47 



Above, a ceaseless, cloudless sky — 
Not blue but bleaching white — 

Reflects the aching alkali 
Till death suspends in night. 

Below the level of the sea, 

The plain lies torn and rent. 
But, cringing, it can never free 

Itself till suns are spent. 

The mountains rear their roasting stones 

Against the scorching sky — 
The cracking skulls and crumbling bones 

Of worlds long since gone dry. 

A lifeless plant protects the gate 

With needless, spiny knife — 
A sentry, dead, but doomed to wait 

And stab a phantom life. 

Above, there soars no bird on wing 
With beak that feeds on death ; 

Below, if breathe a creeping thing, 
It breathes with poison-breath. 

In other lands the green will sear, 

The lakes and rivers dry. 
But this commands the heights of cheer, 

For, dead, it cannot die. 



49 



EGO 



51 



One love of loves is all I call my own — 

A love that's worn a surplice and a stole 

And sung my moods a soft and hopeful psalm. 

Afar in northern cold and left alone, 

I've wound around my life the woolen roll 

Whose warmth was gentle through the awful calm 

Of slumber, nearest death that love has known, 

Amid the floes and snows about the pole. 

The only awning oft has been the palm 

Of memory, when drifting sands were blown 

And suns drove love to burrow with the mole. 

If after all of snows and suns the balm 

Of mercy soothe, and I must naught atone, 

One love will then have borne above my soul. 



53 



THE CHALICE 



55 



There's a cup for my joy and my gladness 
When life in its morn is yet early, 

When, smilingly, Alice upraises a chalice — 
A chalice all ruby and pearly. 

There's a cup for my sorrow and sadness 
When life has gone grey in its ashes, 

When violet Alice upraises a chalice — 
A chahce of starlets and lashes. 

There's a cup for my frenzy and madness 
When Fury enfolds and encloses, 

When crimsoning Alice proposes a chalice — 
A chalice of petals of roses. 



57 



LIFE 



59 



The swollen stream that breaks its banks in flood, 
Collecting toll in treasure and in blood. 
Deposits on the land its vital mud 
Whence springs anew a wealth of blade and bud. 

But I, who see the mote and not the beam, 
Who have no light that sheds an inner gleam. 
Who see no silt suspended in the stream. 
Protect the plains that with the dying teem. 

To me the dead and verdant look alike 
And, knowing not wJiereat the flood may strike, 
I build along the shore an earthen dyke 
To turn the silt that feeds the ear and spike. 

I see upon the flood a fallen tree 

And, knowing not another tree 'twould be, 

I labor blindly to enrich the lea 

By guiding half the riches to the sea. 



61 



THE POTTER 



63 



She set her hand to make a shape of clay — 
A fair and wondrous bowl wherein her golden soul 
Could find repose till called on judgment day — 

And, when her life to this attempt was bound, 
With hand inspired and fine she gave to every line 
The grace that in her limbs and breast she found. 

When every art to which she might aspire 
Was given to the bowl, she cast within her soul 
And trusted both to chance of fickle fire ; 

But Fate, in looking on the burning bowl, 
Decreed the time was ill and in the potter's kiln. 
For too much love of beauty, burned her soul. 



65 



THE SAGE 



67 



To him who dwells in lofty sohtude 

^Vhere frills and folds of Life cannot obtrude. 

Where sounds are low and hushed and lights subdued, 

Life comes; before him stands ashamed and nude. 

As Life, undraped, abashed, before him stands, 
Her shoulders bare between her silken strands. 
Upon her flesh he sees the jailer's brands 
And hides his aching eyes behind his hands. 



69 



AT PARTING 



71 



Madeleine : Here are we watching depressively 
Flames in the grate as they kindle caressively — 
Watching unhopefully, wearily, drearily. 
Fond is the fire that is burning so cheerily — 
Burning its heart with bravado and fearlessness. 
Little it feels of the following cheerlessness. 

See! Sap escapes from the log now and, simmering^ 
Plays on the flames as they, flickering, glimmering, 
Whisper with lips that are moistened but amorous. 
Vaporous drapery hiding the glamorous 
Coloring falls and the flames that leap glaringly 
See not the end of the log they eat daringly. 

Cold are the flames that fly flashingly, flaringly ; 
Back of them see we the blackness despairingly ; 
Sharp as the cracklings are, hear we the dreariness ; 
Warm as the waves may roll, feel we the weariness : 
Cold are the tongues that lap roughly but playfully ; 
After them sense we the dulness dismayfully. 



Cradled in vaporous down, we are dreamingly 
Floating above while this love of ours seemingly 
Bears us along in the currents of yesterday — 
Currents where, sporting, we flew in the quest of play. 
T'eel you the breaths of love fanning us airily. 
Airily kissing, caressing us f airily? 



73 



There in our fancies again are we dallying, 
Waiting and hoping the winds may be rallying 
Forces that rest in the torrid but hidden isles — 
Forces that sleep in the guarded, forbidden isles. 
There in our fancies again are we tarrying, 
Hoping the tempest a flash may be carrying. 

There, where the vortex was velvet and ravishing, 
Dust of the hurricane's lust on us lavishing ; 
There, where the winds were so hot and uproarious. 
Wafting a warmth to the soul that was glorious; 
There, where the kiss of the tempest was maddening, 
Now is the void of the calm that is saddening. 

Oft, when the currents were fondling us feehngly. 
Brushing and touching, embracing appeahngly. 
Gave we no thought to the courses or reckoning — 
Saw we no vacuums vacantly beckoning. 
Thus, as the winds bore us wrongfully, rightfully. 
Death is a witness, they bore us dehghtfully. 

********** 

Madeleine : Here are we looking so fearfully 
Into the dark while we fix our eyes tearfully, 
Sadly, where once we saw coals glowing pleasantly- 
Coals that in ashes will choke and die presently. 
See you the light that was flashing so vividly 
Flashes again? But it flashes now lividly. 



75 



I have had all of the flame and the flare of it, 
All of the gleam and the glamorous glare of it ; 
You have had all of the blast and the blaze of it; 
AU of the fire and the rapturous craze of it; 
Yesterday held and yet holds all the blend of us; 
Morrow there's none — 'tis the end, 'tis the end of us. 

Looking in sockets so dull in their stoniness, 
Gripping on fingers so white in their boniness, 
Leaving the ash that no longer glows rosily, 
Off for a grate that M^ill always burn cosily. 
Moving off vapidly, rapidly, glidingly, 
Forth we go, down we go, dwelling abidingly. 



77 



.L'JRARY OF CONGRESS 

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